


Long Game

by rawnbones4 (iKain2)



Series: Hearth and Home: Domestic Viking Husbands [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Essentially Tarben POV, Established Relationship, Humor, M/M, Male Eivor (Assassin's Creed), NSFW, Not Beta Read, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance, Size Difference, Strip Orlog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:01:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27645866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iKain2/pseuds/rawnbones4
Summary: Tarben is not sure if Eivor is purposely being distracting or if he is really that bad at Orlog.
Relationships: Eivor (Assassin's Creed)/Tarben, Male Eivor/Tarben (Assassin's Creed)
Series: Hearth and Home: Domestic Viking Husbands [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2021420
Comments: 9
Kudos: 156





	Long Game

**Author's Note:**

> After pining fruitlessly over Hytham, I discovered that you can romance your cute Ravensthorpe baker and also play Orlog with him… although I have so far not won a single game of Orlog, ever, in my playthrough. 
> 
> Smol Viking Man + Burly Teddy Bear Ex-Merc Baker is my new OTP

Tarben glanced at the game taking place on the cramped dining table of his bakery home, his face betraying none of his glee as he picked up several dice to keep and helped himself to another full hand of God Tokens.

Sitting across from him and wearing nothing except for his trousers, Eivor swore under his breath as his next rolls amounted to little more than a few more axes and arrows, reducing him to a single defensive helmet that would do little against the numerous hands that his opponent had rolled. He would end this round with no God Tokens remaining and a pitiful defense.

Tarben smiled as Eivor was, yet again, at the mercy of his full-powered Thor’s Strike, completely wiping out the other man’s stones. “You’ve lost again, Eivor.”

Eivor half-raised from his seat, glaring at the dice game as if it would reveal its secrets to him. “Odin’s balls, how did you get that many God Tokens!”

“It seems that the Gods are on my side tonight, Eivor.” Tarben gestured to the dice before leaning back in his chair. “Pay up, Wolf-Kissed.”

Above both of them, Synin’s croak sounded more like a shrill, mocking laugh before she promptly exited through a gap above the closed front door of Tarben’s home with a flap of her glossy wings, resigning Eivor to his fate.

Eivor gave the dice another disbelieving look before standing up and unlacing his trousers, slowly dragging the fabric down his thighs and calves in a way that had Tarben’s eyes glancing down to follow the fluid movement. Now wearing just his underclothes, the man looked godlike in the flickering flames of the hearth, his pale and scarred skin hardly hiding the strength coiled beneath in his hard-earned muscles.

The trousers went flying into Tarben’s face. As the baker dragged the offending piece of clothing off his head and set it aside on a barrel within arm’s reach (which also held the rest of the warrior’s lost clothing and weapons), Eivor sat back down with a huff and a suspicious gleam in his eyes as he gathered up the stones and dice. “One more match. I will win at least one game tonight!”

“Alright, love.” Tarben reset the game, shaking his head at the man’s competitive spirit. “We will see if luck is on your side this time.”

The coin flip went to Eivor, who quickly rolled his dice and frowned when he only gained one measly God Token.

As Tarben grabbed his dice and began to roll, he felt a bare foot shove itself into his crotch. The baker grabbed a wayward ankle, raising an eyebrow at Eivor as he tossed his dice. Two God Tokens thanks to a shield and a hand - it wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t great either compared to his earlier rolls.

“What?” Eivor’s playful smile was anything but innocent. “I’m cold and you have my clothes. Where else am I going to rest my foot?”

Tarben’s entire hand fit well around the curve of the man’s ankle, pressing against the cold skin there.

Although Eivor ran around bundled in all manners of furs and fabrics to combat the biting chill of England’s tempestuous weather, once stripped and bared of all of that cumbersome protection, he looked… smaller. Not diminished or less of a man – Tarben had no doubts that Eivor could kill him with the nearest spoon if need be – but there was just _something_ that aroused a spark in him whenever he was pressed close to his lover and could quietly revel in the differences between them that still slotted so well together.

The baker was brought back to the present with Eivor’s hiss of displeasure as the dice gave him yet another hand free of God Tokens, instead presenting him with more lackluster arrows that would do little against Tarben’s growing line of defense.

The foot in his grasp shifted slightly down the side of his thigh and _oh, that was nice_.

Eivor’s arms crossed his bare chest as he scowled at the dice, eyebrows drawn together. “I cannot believe this!”

With his free hand, Tarben rolled his dice. Three more God Tokens and some axes. Just what he needed. “Hmm… this will do.”

The foot in his grasp pressed forward, providing an absolutely _delicious_ pressure as Eivor leaned in a bit over the table, squinting in the flickering light at Tarben’s ridiculous pile of God Tokens. “Don’t tell me you’re going to use Thor’s Strike.”

Tarben tightened his grip on the ankle in his possession, just to keep himself from grinding forward as Eivor rolled his last turn of dice. “If the Gods so will it.”

“Tarben, I swear—” Eivor ran a hand over his face as the dice failed him yet again.

Over the next few rounds, Eivor’s stones dwindled to a measly 4, while Tarben still had at least 10 left. Even to the novice player’s eyes, Eivor’s chances of winning this game without a massive influx of God Tokens or hands was nigh impossible—

—especially once Tarben used 8 of his God Tokens to ensure that Eivor had absolutely and irrevocably lost this battle.

The foot in his crotch pressed harder against him before disappearing, and this time Tarben couldn’t help but rock up into the sensation, his knee banging into the underside of the table that honestly was much too low for someone of his size.

Eivor’s arm swept across the small table, sending dice and stones scattering to the ground as he stood up, grinning despite his crushing defeat. Tarben’s pulse quickened as the other man slid across the side of the table so smoothly that it took less than a moment for Eivor to perch in his lap, his familiar weight a pleasant weight against him. Tarben’s hands automatically went to rest at the other man’s hips, the chill of the bare skin there stark against the warmth of his own. 

“If you want the last of my clothes, you’ll have to take it off yourself.” A hungry mouth pressed against his, giving him no room to respond as their tongues slid against each other.

Each passing second lost in the kisses and touches of his lover drew Tarben further into an unyielding bliss that he could scarcely put to words, until the chair beneath them gave a single warning creak before it promptly collapsed under the weight of two fully-grown men.

Their foreheads smacked against each other with a dull thud as they laid on the floor, on top of the remains of the wooden chair. It took a few moments before Eivor snorted and began to laugh at their expense, his quiet huffs of breath absolutely melting Tarben’s heart.

They shared one more lingering kiss before Eivor sat up, enjoying his perch on top of his lover as he licked at his lips. After a moment, he gestured to the cozy bedding in the corner a few feet away, the fur blankets still unmade and askew from their shared morning. “To bed? At least that has less of a chance of breaking underneath us.”

“Of course, love.” Tarben sat up with little difficulty, shifting his legs a bit as he hooked his arms underneath Eivor’s thighs. After a moment, with an easy-looking feat of strength as if he was simply picking up an unwieldy sack of grain, the baker got to his feet with a grunt. Following along with the movement, Eivor left hardly an inch of space between them as he clung to Tarben’s broad shoulders and hooked his ankles around his back. It took less than a heartbeat afterwards for Eivor to begin pressing kisses and nipping at Tarben’s neck, one hand going to loosen the baker’s hair from its functional bun.

Tarben stepped around the scattered dice and pebbles on the ground to the best of his ability and then settled into the warm bed, pressing his lover down against plain pillows and soft furs.

A pair of particularly cold feet dug into the back of his calves, prompting him to ask quietly against parted lips, “I can add another log to the fire if it’s too cold.”

With half-lidded eyes, Eivor didn’t even pause as he continued trying to wrest off Tarben’s tunic and trousers. Damn belts and knots. “With you, I’ll be warm enough soon.”

Tarben’s tunic went up and over his head, tossed off to somewhere on the ground. A few seconds later, his trousers and underclothes joined the pile. Tarben returned the favor, finally stripping Eivor completely – his hard-earned prize – and touching the bare, tattooed skin that had been thoroughly distracting him this entire evening.

Tarben sighed as his lover’s hands sought what they were looking for, the calloused fingers and palm feeling divine against his straining cock. Eivor didn’t waste any time, gathering the both of them in a tight grip and rocking into it, his own cock - already leaking from anticipation – helping to smooth the friction just enough.

 _Gods. How lucky he was to have all of this, even as a man with so much blood on his hands._ Tarben couldn’t help the low moan that filtered past his lips as he watched them slide together roughly, flushed cockheads peeking out from Eivor’s grip. From the angle, he could see Eivor’s cock pressed hot and hard against his own, sizeable on its own right alone but looking just a little bit smaller next to his. The blood rushing through his veins only heated him further at the sight, and he couldn’t help but press down harder with his weight, thrusting into the grip.

Eivor’s hand slipped after one particularly hard thrust, and the baker instead replaced it with his own, circling the both of them with ease as the delicious friction brought both of them towards their peaks. The bed creaked beneath their rocking movements, the headboard thumping against the wall.

Eivor’s hands, now free, went to grip at Tarben’s thighs hard enough to leave stinging imprints of his nails that would surely last for some time, spurring him on with breathless little gasps of pleasure that Tarben took the opportunity to kiss away.

“T-Tarben, w-wait, I’m going to—” 

Grinding down harder at the admission, Tarben watched as Eivor Wolf-Kissed unraveled beneath him with a soft groan, blue eyes blurred by pleasure as his back arched, pressing their heated bodies impossibly closer. He spilled between their heaving bodies, bold lines of white smearing against their stomachs.

Though aching to join his lover in completion, he stopped and instead squeezed at the both of them with his grip, drawing out a few final beads of come out of Eivor. The other man exhaled slowly as he unhooked his legs and let them dangle open between the wide spread of Tarben’s thighs, breathing heavily as he pinned Tarben with a fathomless gaze.

Eivor’s hands slid up Tarben’s thigh before curling one back around the baker’s still-hard cock, tighter than before, and started pumping him quickly. Unable to control himself any longer, Tarben rocked into his lover’s grip, leaning forward to rest his forehead against the other man’s as he drew him into a breathless kiss that was more teeth than tongue. He could never get enough of Eivor, not since he first laid his eyes on the handsome viking in Ravensthorpe, expecting little more than the tales of fierce brashness and bloodthirsty violence, only to be surprised by the kindness of his eyes towards strangers, the softness in his words even in times of strife, and the gentleness of his hands when helping a friend; all things quite unlike the image of a _drengr_ , and yet, he was quite likely the strongest of all of them—

Tarben came hard enough to splatter Eivor’s collarbone, eliciting a huff of breathless laughter from the both of them. He carefully lowered himself to the side, so as to not crush the poor man he’d been rutting on with his weight. Eivor wiped his sticky hand on Tarben’s back and then rolled over to wrap his arms around his lover, leeching what warmth he could.

“Rematch tomorrow? I’ll beat you for sure.” Eivor yawned in the middle of his question, already half asleep in the crook of Tarben’s neck.

Pressing a kiss onto the side of Eivor’s head, just below where his thoroughly messed up braids began, Tarben pulled up the blanket and then murmured quietly to his love, “Of course, Eivor. I’ll even go easy on you.”

“No more Thor’s Strike?” Eivor murmured sleepily against his skin.

“No more Thor’s Strike, I promise.”

Tarben wrapped his heart in his arms and fell asleep in a safe, warm bed, in a home that smelled like freshly baked bread.


End file.
